


No Questions Asked

by RavenSyv



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-05 14:02:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1820926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenSyv/pseuds/RavenSyv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was nearly done with his cigarette when another customer walked in with a book. Jean caught a glimpse of the cover title, “Dungeons & Dragons” which was not the typical reading material they saw in the coffee shop. Jean's eyes followed the man through the door before he smirked and put his cigarette out, “Fucking nerd.” he mumbled without malice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mister Fantasy

Jean gave a sigh of relief as the lunch hour rush began to die down. His feet ached, his brain was frazzled, and he needed a cigarette. He called over to his coworker, currently picking at a muffin she would have to pay for later, that he was going for a smoke break and he'd be back in fifteen. He went out the front door to sit on the bench by the little smoker's outpost they had planted outside. It was usually surrounded by hipster college students smoking their fancy, organic cigarettes and talking about the latest indie record. Thankfully, it was void of such occupants today. Probably due to finals week or something. 

Jean lit his own cigarette, and took a long drag, letting the smoke out slowly at first, so it drifted from his lips in swirls before blowing it out in a huff. He watched customers mill out of the cafe` in groups of three or four. A few more walked in with a book or a laptop or sketchpad. The people with laptops were less likely to actually buy something and probably just there for the free wifi. The people with books and sketchpads would order tea or coffee, but only drink half of it before it got cold and gross. The lunch rush was officially over for the most part. There were still people like him, who worked weird hours and didn't get lunch until three sometimes. 

He was nearly done with his cigarette when another customer walked in with a book. Jean caught a glimpse of the cover title, “Dungeons & Dragons” which was not the typical reading material they saw in the coffee shop. Jean's eyes followed the man through the door before he smirked and put his cigarette out, “Fucking nerd.” he mumbled without malice. 

He went back inside and returned behind the counter to relieve his coworker, Sasha, for her own break. She smiled at him and grabbed another large muffin out of the cabinet, “Could you take care of this order for me?.” She said cheerily as she handed him a slip of paper with a simple order of green tea with honey. “Table six.” She added, pointing to Nerd Guy sitting off by himself, next to the window. 

“Yeah, alright.” Jean said, turning to start the order. 

He approached the table after a few minutes, mug on plate and packets of honey in hand, “Here's your tea.” He said in an even tone, a half-fake smile painted on his face.

Nerd Guy turned his face up from his book to regard Jean, brown eyes holding an infinitely more genuine smile than Jean would have ever been able to manage while on the clock. “Oh, thank you.” he said, placing his book face down on the table so that he could take the tea. Jean piled the honey on the table, “Just let me know if you need anything else.” He said politely as he turned and walked away. 

Thirty minutes past and no new costumers had come in. Sasha had seen fit to simply remain seated and scroll through her phone, though she did move closer over to Jean so that they could make a bit of small talk without having to yell across the room. The whole place had quieted down, with only a few patrons still seated and chatting or sipping their drinks. Nerd Guy was still there and, to Jean's mild surprise, had actually finished his tea and ordered a second cup with a scone this time. Jean would periodically glance over at him, just to make sure he didn't need his tea refilled or another scone or something. Just being a good waiter and what not. He noticed he had tan skin with dark hair and freckles that sprinkled over his cheeks. Wide, brown eyes rarely ever left the pages of his book. 

Jean propped his chin up on his hand, leaning on the counter and looked back over at Sasha, who was currently rambling about some post she saw on Tumblr. She looked up at him, clearly waiting for a response. Jean hadn't really been paying attention so all he could manage to come up with was a neutral, “Huh.” That seemed to satisfy her and she launched back into her one-sided conversation. Jean glanced back up after a moment and noticed that Nerd Guy was no longer sitting at his table. Jean glanced at Sasha still sitting in her seat, scrolling through her phone before rolling his eyes and moving to clean the freshly vacated table with a rag they kept beneath the register. 

He stopped for a minute when he saw a five dollar bill sitting on the table and stared at it. He glanced around, not really knowing how to react to getting a decent tip. Or a tip at all, for that matter. For some reason, hardly anyone felt they needed to tip their waiters here. But Jean hadn't been overly enthusiastic with Nerd Guy. He hadn't made periodic stops at his table to make sure he was satisfied with his food or tea or if he wanted anything else or asked if he'd like to try their new special. How was it he had gotten a five dollar tip?

With a slight scowl, he picked up the bill and pocketed it before wiping down the table and picking up the empty mug and taking it back to the kitchen. “Guess who just got a tip?” Jean bragged to Sasha when he returned to the front.

“Uh,” she said, thoughtfully, “No one?” 

Jean smirked and showed her the bill, “Nope.”

“Bullshit!” she yelped out before covering her mouth, remembering profanity wasn't exactly professional. “How did you get that?” 

“Must be my natural charm.” Jean said with a shrug.

Sasha made a face, “You've got about as much charm as my aunts toe wart.”

Jean raised a brow, “That's gross.”

“You're gross.” she shrugged.

Jean scowled for a second and put the five back in his pocket, “At least I'm not on my phone constantly.” Sasha stuck her tongue out at him and looked back at her phone, completely ignoring him afterward. Jean turned his own attention to the clock on the register and waited for his lunch hour to roll around. 

* * *

A day or two went by. Business was unusually slow. Jean had been running the morning shift that day and had seen a grand total of five customers. This sort of thing happened from time to time and not nearly often enough to cost the cafe` that much money, so Jean wasn't worried about being let go and having to find another source of income to pay his half of the rent to his shitty apartment. He and his roommate made enough money to pay rent and buy groceries. If they scraped together their leftovers, they could probably afford a nicer couch or maybe cable TV. But alas, they weren't exactly good at coordinating for the greater good. 

Jean was at the cafe` by himself, currently. The one who was supposed to relieve him for lunch had called in, so he had simply bought a muffin and ate behind the counter, clocking out for about half an hour. Though, he never actually left, he did have to close the cafe` for a bit since his boss would get pissed off if he worked during his lunch. He had about an hour before Sasha started her shift. The lack of costumers made him a bit too comfortable, so he wasn't exactly trying his hardest to be quiet as he sang to himself, wiping down the tables for the umpteenth time. “Do you wanna build a snow man? Come on let's go and play!” He sang, slightly off key and giving a little twirl as he moved to the next table, “We use to be best buddies. And now we're not. I wish you would tell me whyyyyyyyyy! Do you wanna build a snow man?”

“It doesn't have to be a snow man.” 

Jean jumped and let out an embarrassing yelp at the sudden voice behind him. He turned to see the same freckle-faced nerd from the other day, standing their with a laptop case, strap slung over his shoulder and an amused smile on his face. Jean felt his face heat up as he cleared his throat, ready to defend himself with a well thought out reason a nineteen year old man would be singing a song from Frozen. 

Freckles gave a low chuckle, “Slow day, huh?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Jean replied, and after a short pause, “What can I get for you?” he asked as he made his way back behind the counter.

“Hmmm...” Freckles hummed thoughtfully as his eyes swept over the menu. “Maybe...just a mocha cappuccino and...a blueberry muffin.”

Jean nodded, giving the total and letting Freckles swipe a credit card. “Alright, I'll have that right out for you.”

He watched for a moment as Freckles took the seat by the window again, and busied himself with the coffee and muffin order. It didn't take long and Jean was taking the lone costumer his order in about five minutes. “Here you go.” He said, placing the food and hot beverage on the table.

“Oh, thanks!” Freckles said, looking over his laptop first at the food, then Jean, and smiled warmly. 

Jean hesitated for just a second too long before replying, “Uh, yeah, no problem.” He stole a quick glance at the screen and noticed something that just looked like an online book. Jean felt his lips quirk up into a smirk before he realized standing over a customer while they were doing something on their computer was creepy and promptly turned and went back behind the counter. 

Staring at people while they ate was weird and creepy and Jean was definitely not staring at the guy at the window table. He was, however, stealing the occasional glance over in his direction. Nerd guy seemed to have a habit of biting his bottom lip while reading or concentrating or whatever. One half eaten muffin and a drained mug of coffee later, Jean decided to pipe up, “So, what are you doing.”

Freckles looked up at Jean then around the cafe` then back at Jean, “Uh, oh, I'm...Uh, just reading up on this campaign I'll be DM-ing in a few weeks.”

Jean's brow furrowed, “A what? You'll be what?” Freckles was throwing jargon around expecting him to pick up and understand it immediately. Big mistake, that was.

“Like, you've heard of Dungeons and Dragons before, right?” He said, attempting to clarify, Jean assumed.

He still really didn't know what Freckles was talking about, giving a blank stare as response. He knew the name and that it was some sort of board game. Also for nerds. But that was about it. “No.” he said after a moment.

“Uh, well, it's like....like World of Warcraft only table top.”

That helped a little, “Oh, so it's like, make a character and fight shit.”

“Yeah, pretty much! I'm gonna have to figure out a way to dumb down the enemies though. We don't have a full party.”

“You can do that? Just, like, make the bad guys weaker?”

“Oh, yeah. It takes a bit more math but it's not too terribly complicated.”

“Huh.” was all Jean could say to that. He wasn't a super huge gamer nerd. He didn't play table tops or a lot of online games. The only reason he got the comparison to World of Warcraft was because of all the advertisement and the fact that he had given it a shot a few years back. He had been pretty into it at first, but burned out quickly and never really picked it back up.

“Uh,” Freckles began, attempting to fill the awkward silence that had fallen between them, “Are you, like, interested in playing or...?”

“Oh, uh, no not really. That stuff's not really my cup of tea.” Jean said, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Oh. Well, if you change your mind, or if you just wanna come watch or something, we're playing at that game store a couple blocks from here.”

“That place? I've never actually gone in there.”

“Really? You should sometime. It's pretty nice. We've got a lot of inventory to look at.”

Jean blinked at him for a second, “You work there or somethin?”

“Yeah. Just part time. While I'm going to college.”

“Huh. Full plate.” Jean said, raising his brows with mild surprise.

“Tell me about it.” Freckles commented as he turned back to his laptop. 

It fell quiet again, and no one tried to break the silence this time. Jean busied himself with doodles on scrap paper behind the counter. Things he would draw more seriously later and add to his portfolio. He was almost confident enough to start showing it to people. A faint buzz sounded from the window table as Freckle's alarm on his phone went off. Jean looked up and watched him pack up his stuff. They waved at each other and Jean was left alone in the cafe` once more. 

He went back to his drawing until Sasha Came in to work, shouting out a greeting and then, “Wow, this place is dead.” she commented, looking around at all the empty chairs and tables. Her eyes fell on the one by the window. “Only one customer today?”

“No,” Jean said, “I just haven't cleaned that one yet. Didn't really see a point to it, ya know?” he shrugged.

“I feel ya.” Sasha agreed. “Has Marco been in?” she asked, then added, “The guy with the freckles.”

“You know him?” Jean asked, watching her as she tied on her apron.

“Yeah, Connie hangs out with him a lot. He's ridiculously nice.”

“Huh, well, yeah he did come in earlier. I think he was on his lunch break or something.”

“Probably. He works at that game place down the road.”

“Yeah, he told me.”

“Oh?” Sasha said, suddenly interested. “You guys talked?”

“Uh...yeah?” Jean gave her a side glance. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” She said, making herself busy with gathering the dishes still on the recently used table.

Clarity slowly began to show in Jean's face, “Sasha, don't you dare.”

“What?” She asked, seemingly confused and genuinely offended. 

“You know what. Fucking quit it.”

“I have no earthly idea what you could possibly be talking about.” She replied, making an extra effort to sound overly innocent.

Jean rolled his eyes. Sasha had a habit of trying to set him up with random people. She watched him like a hawk whenever he said two words to a guy or girl. It was his own fault, he supposed. Mentioning his bad luck with significant others made Sasha determined to administer her own brand of kindness. Meaning: Jean was constantly invited to a variety of social gatherings and asked to take several tables with relatively attractive men and/or women. He had a slight, nagging feeling she had sent him over to Marco's table a couple days ago for that exact reason.

With a sigh, Jean removed his apron and clocked out, “The new girl called in today so I had to cover her shift and basically didn't get a lunch. I'm going home. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, alright. See ya.” She waved and disappeared into the back room.

Jean's apartment was only about twenty minutes from the cafe` so he was home in no time and rummaging through the kitchen for something easy to make. “Christa?” he called out while he was looking in the fridge, “Christa you home?”

“Yeah!” A gentle voice called back, followed by a muffled, harsher sounding one. 

Jean could quite make out what they said but the sound of their voice made his head pop up immediately, “Is the bitch here too?” He asked, without any real malice to his tone, though he didn't sound pleased either.

“Shut up horse-face!” the harsher voice called back from Christa's room.

“Fuck off, Ymir!” Jean retaliated before returning to his quest for food. There was laughter from the room but no more insults flew through the apartment. Probably because Christa was play referee behind the scene. Ymir was Christa's girlfriend and was here far more often than Jean could stomach most days. It wasn't that they didn't get along well enough. Really, the two had a healthy respect for each other. But Ymir and Jean's personalities were just not that compatible.

There was a point where Ymir had stayed with them for just over a week. The constant close contact between the two put a strain on there kinda-sorta-friendship. It was only a matter of time before the two of them pissed each other off. They got into a screaming match about something. Jean couldn't really remember what it had been. Probably Ymir drinking the last of the milk or Jean teasing Christa a bit too harshly. Long story short, the three of them learned that Ymir probably shouldn't stick around the apartment consecutively for more than a few days. 

Thankfully, the freckled girl had gotten her own place a few months back and now the two alternated. Sometimes, Jean had the apartment to himself for an entire week. He liked this arrangement. Really, Christa was great and nice and the two of them got along well, but their were just certain things a guy couldn't do while rooming with a lady. And there were certain things a lady couldn't do while rooming with a guy. 

Jean finally decided to settle for a hot-pocket and stuck it in the microwave. He flopped down on their crappy futon and grabbed his laptop up off the floor next to the side table. He flipped it open and scrolled through the internet, waiting for his food to be done. The microwave beeped and he moved to get up but was met by a small, blonde girl, just a little too close to his face to be considered socially acceptable.

“Hey, Jean?” She said, voice sweet and innocent.

“Uh, Yeah?” He asked, suspicious.

“Could you....maybe make yourself scarce tonight?” she smiled brightly up at him.

Jean looked at her for a moment, confused. Then realization dawned on him, “Oh. Oh! Oh, gross. Yeah, okay, I'm gone.” 

Christa's expression brightened even more, “Thanks!” she patted his shoulder roughly before scurrying back to her room to tell Ymir the good news.

Jean pulled out his phone as he walked to the kitchen to grab his hot-pocket. It rang twice before being answered. “Hello?”

“Hey, Reiner. You wanna hang out tonight? Christa's got Ymir over.”

“Oh, yeah man. No problem. You wanna just come over to my place? Berdtold's here too. ”

“Yeah, that fine. Just gimme a minute to get ready. I'll be over in a sec.”

“Alright, see you in a bit.”

Jean hung up the phone, devoured his food, and changed into more casual, non-work attire. He thought for a second before grabbing his sketchbook for a just-in-case scenario. If they decided to sit down and watch a movie or something, Jean was going to draw during the boring parts. He headed out the door and sent Reiner a quick message that he was on his way.


	2. Thoughts On A Grey Day

They did not end up watching a movie. Berthold had mentioned something to Reiner about an event going on at their college. Some kind of art festival. Reiner wasn't really that into art, but two out of three in the group were, so he had told them he didn't mind it if they wanted to go. So, they went. Berthold was more of a sculptor and had wandered off to that end of the fair with Reiner in tow. Jean was looking at the paintings and sketches that people had either put up on display or were currently working on. A few food stalls were set up throughout the area, claiming all proceeds went to the funding of the art program or something along those lines. 

Jean made his way over to the large fountain in the center of it all and sat on its edge. The festival was probably more fun if you actually went to the school. He was glad he had the foresight to bring his sketchbook, stashed away in his messenger bag. He pulled it out, folded his legs up underneath him, and began to draw. Nothing in particular at first. A random, floating eye here. A pair of disembodied lips there. Just practicing bits of anatomy. Then he started to draw a few tattoo designs. A few birds, a fox, a woman with exaggerated body parts. Jean had played around with doing something with his art for a while. 

A year or two ago, he decided he really liked the idea of tattoos and did a little research. Turns out, getting an apprenticeship to a good tattoo artist was a lot harder than he had originally thought. Not to mention nerve wracking. He'd gone into a local parlor once before to ask questions, gather information. He was shown a few portfolios and his confidence withered, just a little. 

Jean straightened his back and looked up through the crowd, starting to thin as the sun began to set. He started to think that he should go find Reiner and Berthold when a familiar, freckled face wandered into his line of vision. They made eye contact and Marco smiled, walking over to greet Jean. “Hey!” he said with a big, genuine grin on his face, “Didn't expect to see you here.”

Jean shrugged, “I came here with a couple friends. They go here, and I thought a college art festival would be more...lively.”

Marco huffed a laugh, “I know what you mean. I don't go to this college, but one of my friends does. He didn't want to go alone.”

Jean looked over Marco's shoulder and saw no one, “Where is he?”

“Well,” Marco sighed, “Turns out, he didn't want to show up alone. But when he ran into a couple of his classmates he sort of left me behind.” he shrugged.

“That sucks.” Jean said, failing to add anything that would continue the conversation. He was good at that. He began to feel awkward and self-conscious. He broke eye contact and fidgeted with his sketchbook.

“Sorry,” Marco said, as if suddenly realizing he was doing something rude, “I'm Marco.” he said, extending a hand for Jean to shake.

He took it, “Jean.”

“Jean?” Marco asked, making sure he was pronouncing the name right. When Jean nodded he added, “Fancy name. French, right?”

Jean blinked. Most people couldn't even pronounce his name, let alone guess the origin. Color him impressed. And grateful. The mispronunciations of his name as jokes got old quickly, and he was tiered of correcting people. “Yeah.” 

Marco smiled at him, “So what are you drawing?” he asked, taking a seat next to him.

Jean stiffened a bit. He didn't really like showing people his work. Not yet, anyway. Occasionally he would show something to Berthold or Christa, but that was about it. Still, it wasn't like he had actually been trying too hard on these sketches. So if Marco said they weren't good, he could just say that. Couldn't he? 

Biting at the inside of his cheek, Jean handed over his sketchbook to Marco. He looked over the birds and fox with obvious admiration, and rose a brow at the cartoon-ish lady. “You're really good.” Marco said with a smile. “Are you taking any classes here?”

“No, college isn't really my thing.”

Marco hummed, “I get that. You just like drawing then?”

“I guess.” Jean shrugged.

“I'm not much of an artist, myself. Can't even draw stick people.”

He laughed a little at that, “Do you have any idea how many people say that to me?”

“Too many?”

“Yes.”

“Armin, that friend I came here with? He gets so mad whenever I say that to him. It's kind of funny, actually.”

Jean pouted a bit, “So you said it to me? Clearly, you're not as nice as you look.” He teased.

Marco gave him an innocent smile and shrugged. They chatted for a bit as they flipped through Jean's sketchbook, about nothing in particular. A little about Jean's art, a bit about Marco's college experiences. He was going to school for nursing. Marco admitted this shyly, evidently use to being teased or mocked for it. Jean did neither of these things. Instead, he asked questions. Why was he wanting to be a nurse? Were classes hard? Did they involve a large amount of math? 

In turn, Marco asked Jean what he was planning to do, if not go to college. He reacted to Jean's goal of becoming a tattoo artist with mild surprise, but also intrigue. Marco wasn't really into tattoos or piercings or anything like that, but he admired it on others. He had a healthy amount of respect for tattooists. They weren't aloud to mess up. There was no eraser for ink under skin. You had to make it work, or loose a client. Or several, if word got out that you botched a single job. You could get fired. Black listed. Your entire career over in one misplaced line. The thought gave Jean anxiety, but Marco reassured him that he was more than talented enough.

The sun had nearly set, now. The fair was starting to close down. Booths packing up and people clearing out. A somewhat short boy with blonde hair at shoulder length and the top part tied back into a pony-tail approached them with one other boy and a pretty girl in tow, “Hey, Marco. Eren, Mikasa, and I were gonna go hang out for a while. Wanna come?”

“Nah, I'm kinda tired. I think I'll just head home, if you've got a ride.” Marco replied with a wave of his hand.

“Yeah I got him.” the boy, Eren, stated with a smile and a thumbs-up.

“Alright, cool, I'll see you later.” they waved each other goodbye and Jean looked around. Where the hell were Reiner and Berthold? 

“I think maybe I should go find my friends.” he said, still trying to find them in the now sparse crowd.

“You want any help?” Marco offered.

“Hold on, let me try calling them.” Jean pulled out his phone and first dialed Reiner. When there was no answer, he tried Berthold, but again no one picked up. “Those assholes. Their my ride and they know it.” he mumbled to himself.

Marco nudged him in the shoulder, “Come on, I'll help you look. What do they look like?”

“Reiner is a big, buff lookin guy. You can't really miss him. And Berthold is just...really tall. He's like a baby giraffe.”

“Oh, I think I know him. Berthold Hoover, right?”

“Yeah, that's him.”

“Alright, no problem then. I'll just look for Berthold and you look for the other guy.”

Jean stood up on the fountains edge, trying to get a hire vantage point, but still not seeing either of his two friends. He told Marco he last saw them over by the sculptors and they walked over in that direction. Jean tried calling Reiner again. He didn't answer, again. At this point Jean thought it best to simply spam Reiner's phone with calls and text messages. By the third or fourth call, Reiner finally answered, “Yeah?” He said, sounding a bit annoyed and out of breathe. 

“Dude, where are you? The fair thing ended like, half an hour ago.” Jean said, sounding just as irritated.

“It did?” there was some muffled swearing and hushed words before, “Uh, okay, we'll meet you at the car.”

Jean sighed, “Yeah, alright.”

They hung up the phone and Jean let Marco know what the new plan was. “Where were they?” He asked.

Jean shrugged, “Probably making out.” 

Marco blinked for a second, trying to decide if Jean was serious or not, “Wait, really?” he finally asked.

Jean just shrugged again, “Problem?” he asked, feeling just a bit protective over his friends. Berthold was a big guy, but a bit sensitive. He wasn't going to let anyone try and tell him being gay was anything but perfectly fine. 

“No, no, there's nothing wrong with it. I just didn't know he had a boyfriend.” Marco said quickly.

“Oh.” Jean relaxed, “Really? I mean, they kinda like to pretend it's a secret from everyone but I always thought it was obvious.”

“Maybe.” Marco shrugged.

They made their way over to a slightly beat-up looking Volkswagen, Jean declaring that this was the car. Marco nodded and waved goodbye just as Berthold and Reiner made their grand re-entrance. “Sorry,” Reiner said once Marco was gone, “We kind of lost track of time. Berthold was really into this one sculpture...” Said boy was currently shifting back and forth on his feet, face red and clearly nervous. Or flustered. It was hard to tell which with Berthold.

“Uh-huh.” Jean said evenly, not even a little convinced. “Whatever, it's still early. You wanna just head back over to our place?” 

“Sounds good.”

They piled into the car and drove back to Reiner's apartment. It was on the first floor and the inside was surprisingly neat. A well organized bookshelf, sparkling clean kitchen, and a bedroom with the door constantly shut to everyone but Reainer (and probably Berthold when they were alone). The bathroom was the only exception to the cleanliness, but even then it was mostly just clutter and dirty clothes. 

Berthold didn't live with Reiner either. He stayed with his parents, off campus. It was cheaper that way. He was, however, over enough to practically be living there, and on more than one occasion, Jean had accidentally called it Reiner and Berthold's apartment. And since it was a one-bedroom, it pretty much outed them to anyone that was even a little close to either of the two. Honestly, Jean was pretty sure the only reason the two were still trying to be secretive around everyone was because Bertholds parents didn't know. And while Bert was living with them, he wanted to keep it that way. 

The tree males crammed themselves onto the couch and scrolled through Netflix, arguing over whatever another wanted to watch. They finally settled on a sequel to a Disney movie, poking holes in the plot and logic of the story as the film progressed. In the end, they all decided any continuation of a Disney film was ultimately, trash. They watched a couple more b-movies before Jean checked the time and concluded that it was probably safe to go home. 

* * *  
For the next couple of days, Jean wasn't scheduled for the lunch rush. Which was good. Jean hated the lunch rush with a passion. Between his lack of people skills and the inevitable wait everyone had to go through, he never got tips. Instead, he had been scheduled for a few hours after lunch, meaning he only got about five hours in, those days. Which sucked. Jean needed the extra money for the equipment he'd need to buy for tattooing. Apprenticeships weren't free, or cheap. 

He was back to his regular scheduling (eight to five) by midweek, and glad for it. Unfortunately, he had a very delicate sleep system and it had been disturbed with the promises of not needing to go to work until late. So, Jean had been up late the past few nights. He was all caught up on a few shows he'd been meaning to watch, at least. He groaned and checked the clock on the wall, looking away from the pot of coffee he was brewing. It was almost time for his lunch, and thankfully the new girl had come in today. He would actually get to leave somewhere. 

He poured a cup of coffee for himself (because he needed the caffeine and they got free coffee working here anyway) and then one fore a customer, waiting on a double shot cappuccino. He severed them their coffee and one other table their gourmet sandwiches before going back to his coffee. He cringed when the now barely warm liquid flooded his mouth, but gulped it down anyway. He checked the clock again before calling to the new girl, Mina, that he was going on his lunch. She looked at him, wide-eyed at first, but regained her composer (and hopefully her confidence) before nodding her acknowledgment. 

Jean left the building and got into his crappy Nissan. The damn thing raddled and groaned and threatened to fall apart every time he drove it, but it got him from point-A to point-B with reasonable gas mileage and that was all Jean cared about. He made a quick run by a burger joint and devoured his food in a few minutes. His lunch break was about an hour long so he had time to kill after he actually ate. If Sasha had been working, he might have considered just going back to the cafe` but he didn't know Mina, really, so what was he supposed to do with all this extra time on his hands?

Jean decided he would go an investigate this nerd store Marco had claimed to work at. Why not? Maybe they actually had something interesting over there. Jean was parked outside the shop in a matter of minutes. The building was small, windows plastered with sun-bleached posters, making it difficult to look in from outside. He got out of his car and entered the building, greeted with cluttered tables and shelves. Glass counters showed off separate cards and colorful dice with way too many sides. Behind the counters were even more shelves filled with a variety of board games and boxes that looked too small to be anything but containers for cards. And Marco.

His nose was buried in a book, a sight Jean had come to expect, and he hadn't bothered to look up at the new customer, despite the automatic beeping noise that sounded after the door was opened. Actually, Jean was the only customer, it seemed. He made his way over to the counter and spoke up, “So, you weren't kidding about the inventory thing, were you?” Marco jumped a bit and looked up to see Jean not looking at him, but around the store, “This place is packed.”

Marco smiled and shrugged, “It's mostly just lack of organization. We're in the middle of a shipment.”

“Well, I can see you're right on top of that.” Jean said, motioning to the book in front of them. It actually just looked like a very thick comic book and...were those zombies?

Marco folded the corner of the page he was on and shut the book, “Well, there's not a whole lot going on, you see.” he gestured with his arms at the empty room, “And it wasn't my turn to do this stuff, anyway. Annie was supposed to be the one who took stock and cleaned all of it up, but she's kind of disappeared.” He shrugged.

Jean hummed at that and picking through a bowl filled with tiny pokemon. There was seriously something off about them, but Jean couldn't quite put his finger on it. Then he found one with black eyes and red pupils, “Dude,” he said, “This thing looks demonic.”

Marco laughed, “Yeah they aren't exactly the best we've had. None of them are painted right. Really, I don't even know where they came from. They were just here one day and out boss isn't saying anything.”

“That a little...weird.”

“You don't have to tell me that. I like pokemon as much as the next guy but this...” Marco sifted through the bowl and pulled out a random mini. It was too dark of a blue and a bit misshapen. He dropped it back into the bowl, “So, what brings a cool kid like you to my humble little nerd shop?”

Jean laughed, “Oh, you know, just thought I'd steal you lunch money before heading back to work.”

Marco snorted, “You'll have to look more intimidating than that, if you want my lunch money.” Jean twisted his lips and furrowed his brow to make an exaggerated expression of anger. Marco sputtered a laugh before saying, “Jesus, you have got to play D&D with us. You'd be perfect.”

Jean shrugged, face returning to normal, “Maybe. It could be fun, I guess. But I have literally no idea what it is, or what it's about.”

Marco waved his hand, “Don't worry about it. You'd pick it up in no time, I'm sure. Berthold's playing, too. So it's not like you wouldn't know anyone. We could really use another member. Our group just got a bit smaller since a couple people had to drop.”

Jean hummed to himself, “Maybe. Let me think about it. I'd have to take a look at my schedule, I think. I have Mondays off, consistently.” 

“That would work for us. We're pretty flexible anyway.”

“Alright, I'll stop by at some point.” And why not? It wasn't like he had that much to do on his days off. Why not try something new? This could potentially be fun. Marco seemed nice, Berthold would be there, and he might even enjoy himself. 

“Do you want my number?” Marco asked after a second, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, “So I can let you know when we're starting and you can let me know if you get caught up or whatever.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Jean pulled out his phone. They exchanged numbers and made idle chitchat for the next ten or fifteen minutes before Jean decided he had better get back to the cafe` and help out with clean up and what not. They said their goodbyes and parted ways. 

Jean had an odd sense of anticipation as he drove back to work and clocked in to begin his second shift. He even had a bit of a bounce to his step and smiled easier at irritating customers. This of course, did not go unnoticed by Sasha, who constantly tried to probe him for information. “Why are you so happy?” she would ask him with a sing-song voice. Jean just shrugged and carried on. He had no doubt she'd figure it out, eventually. Through Connie or someone. And she would poke and tease him, saying how he's flirting when really he was just being nice to a nice guy. Ordinarily, the idea of it would annoy him. But this time, he couldn't really find it in himself to care.


End file.
